Dragons were terrifying beasts. Well, usually they were. Usually they would snap their jaws and snort their smoke and breathe their ferocious jets of fire at any who got within range. Their spiky tails, sharp claws, leathery wings and hard scales did nothing but make the already intimidating creatures all the more terrifying. Spike, however, was different. He had been born and raised in pony society. He had manners, he was polite. Spike knows that, above all else, ponies are his friends. He was no mindless hoarder of gemstones (although he never could say no to a good feed of turquoise), no barbaric dweller of caves. Spike was a dragon of class, of sophistication. He was a gentlemanly dragon; a gentledragon.
Spike loved nothing more than knowing how appreciative Twilight Sparkle and her friends were of his kind ways; of his consideration; of his helpfulness. Never does he ask for or expect reward; he simply does all he can to make the life of his friends as pleasant as possible. Sure,